Leni Wiener

As 2009 draws to a close, many of us are making our resolutions for the coming year.  Yeah, yeah, eat better and exercise more–that one always tops the list for many of us.  But I want to talk today about setting goals in your artistic career.

First there are the big goals, the ones that are hard to reach but worth at least setting the bar to achieve.  These might include a contract to write a book, acceptance to a gallery to represent your work, to take first prize in a juried show, or some other professional goal that seems like a reach.  Only when we set these goals can we begin to set the smaller goals that would build the foundation which would allow these bigger goals to happen.

Once you have established your big goal for the year (and one is usually enough) then you need to think about the steps you must take to get there.  For example, several years ago my big goal was to get a contract to write my first book.  That meant the little goals were: to decide on a topic and begin to test and make samples; write some of the text and the steps for one project; look at all the publishers who produce quilting books and try to establish which ones might be more interested in the kind of book I had in mind; writing a proposal; dealing with (and learning from) the rejection letters so that my proposal eventually became more detailed, more focused and was eventually accepted.

Your big goal may not be so complex, in 2006, my big goal was to produce a consistent body of work so that I could begin to enter juried shows (and hopefully be accepted into them).  If entering shows is something that you want to do, a body of work is important or you will be producing work around the clock just to meet submission deadlines.  Since most shows allow you to submit two or three pieces (and they want to see continuity) and you cannot enter the same piece to shows that might overlap, it is important to have a few pieces completed and photographed to meet these deadlines. Research the shows that are available to enter, make a schedule of their due dates and the dates they would need to have your work, and look at the last few year’s shows to see if your work fits with their vision.

Not there yet?  Perhaps your big goal this year is to establish a voice, a working style, and begin to produce work that represents you as an artist.  How do you do this?  Look at the work you are currently making, decide what aspects of it you like and want to stay with, what you want to change, and what direction you want your work to take.  I found that making lists was an important part of establishing my artistic voice–things I enjoyed about the process and things I did not enjoy (and therefore wanted to eliminate).  Making small pieces, like journal quilts, may allow you to test the waters in different directions and see what you want to develop more fully, combining and eliminating until you find the style and techniques that work for you.  If you have already established a voice, test it, stretch it, and evolve.

Once you decide on your big goal and the steps you need to take to get there, then think about your smaller goals; setting up an efficient work space (or re-organizing the one you have); experimenting with and expanding your techniques and trying something you haven’t done before (maybe by taking classes, maybe by looking at books, maybe just by experimenting on your own); working on one aspect of the process that you feel might not be your strongest; learning to photograph your work; producing more work each year, or even producing less–by working larger and more detailed than you have in the past.

Also consider expanding your knowledge of the art world in 2010.  It is so important to be aware of other art, both contemporary and older works by established artists, in museums and galleries, and even in art books.  I don’t believe that it takes a degree in art history to understand and learn from art, it only takes a willingness to look at art–but really look at it.  We all have a visceral reaction to some artists’ work that we just love it.  But this isn’t enough–you need to understand WHY you just love it, and why you are drawn to artists whose work may not immediately appear to have a common element.  Looking at art is not the same as studying art for a degree–by studying I mean your personal introspection–what is it that appeals to you?  The colors?  Composition?  Is it the emotional impact?  What do the artists whose work you love have in common?   Then take the next step and really study the work of artists that you don’t like.  What is it about this work that I may be missing, why do others consider this good and I don’t like it?  What can I learn from this artist about moving outside of my comfort zone?  Don’t live near a museum?  The internet is a wonderful source for all kinds of information, and it allows us access to most museums around the world, often with commentary on their websites about the special exhibits they are running.  If you have an i-pod (and perhaps you can do this online, as well) i-tunes has a terrific component called i-tunes University, where you can download (often free) lectures and gallery talks from major museums and universities around the world.  Take advantage of the technology that allows us to be exposed to things that we could never have experienced a generation ago.  Look at other art quilters, but look at painters, sculptors, basket makers, folk art, tribal art, old art, new art, controversial art–look at it all so that you can learn from it, and be influenced by it.  It is hard to work in a vacuum.

Really think about what you want to achieve artistically by this time next year.  Make a contract with yourself and set small incremental goals along the way.  Commit to spending time working on your art without feeling guilty about the time spent.  And do yourself a favor, start the year with a clean and organized work space!

Best wishes to all of you for a productive and creative new year.  Let 2010 be the year you explore and explode on the art scene!

So many of us complain that we just don’t have enough time to do what we need to (or want to) do.  This is often the reason we can’t find time to work on our art.  But I have found that what I have to do fills the time I have to do it.

What do I mean by that?  When I was younger and had a full time job, came home and did the food shopping, made dinner, cleaned up, did the laundry and housework and ran errands on Saturdays, I still found time to sew.  And even when I had small children (who are time sponges) I did all those things and still found time to sew.  So how is it that now, when I am a full time “artist” there are days I can’t find time to get into the studio?  Mainly it is because the adrenalin isn’t pumping to get me through my list of things to do each day, and as a result, what I have to do manages to fill the time I have available to do it.  Some days just going to the supermarket and the post office feels like an accomplishment.  It isn’t.

It is important to remember that we always get the important things on our lists done–we never go without dinner, the dog always gets a walk, and those with jobs always show up for work.  I think that time management can be a self esteem issue–that we don’t consider ourselves important enough to spend time in pursuit of the things that make us happy and fulfill us.  We feel guilty doing something for ourselves.

It is also important to evaluate how much time we actually waste.  How many hours a day do you watch tv?  OK, it helps us relax, but working on our art should do that too.  How many hours do you sit in front of the computer–time that wasn’t even in the mix ten years ago.  Somehow, we all manage to find time to surf the internet and answer emails–so where exactly did that time come from?

Start by stealing half an hour a day to work on your art.  Just half an hour.  It can come out of your tv time, your computer time, the baby’s nap time, or the time that the laundry is in the washing machine before it is transferred to the dryer.  For those of you with dedicated spaces, this isn’t as hard as it is for those who have to set up and break down every time they work.  But even in that situation, put your current project in one container with the “tools” and supplies you need so that you can grab it, work a bit and put it back in.  For sewing time, find somewhere you can set up the machine and leave it for a while–so you can go back to it in little spurts.  Even a folding table somewhere will work.

Make 2010 the year that you allow yourself to spend the time you need to work on art, and set goals to achieve.  Set small goals (I will finish this quilt by the end of the month) and bigger goals (I will enter three juried shows this year).  Write them down and check them off your list as they are accomplished.   Then you can update the short term goals in pursuit of the long term goal.  If you benefit from taking classes, take one.  You don’t have to commit to lots of them at once, just find one class that looks like it will stimpulate and inspire you and take it (classes are usually on nights and weekends, so you can make it fit into your life).  If you benefit from books, set a goal of reading one and testing out the techniques.  How about the goal of producing one small journal quilt each week?  Think about what you want to accomplish this year (in your art) and then think about the little steps you need to take in order to get there.

By setting goals, setting aside a little time every day (or every few days–what about two uninterupted hours on a Sunday, for example) and allowing yourself to make your art a priority, you can find the time you need.

We only need to open our eyes to be inspired to create art.  Nature is the most extraordinary muse and is constantly thowing out ideas to those who pay attention.

Last night we had the perfect snowstorm here in the NY area.  What is a perfect snowstorm?  It is a storm that happens late on a Saturday night, so we could still go out to dinner with friends, and so that Sunday morning there is no big rush to shovel out, clean off the cars and get somewhere.  It is a storm that is predicted to drop up to 20″ and only amounts to about six.  I love to open the curtain in the bedroom so that the first thing I see when I wake up in the morning is the snow hanging on the tree branches.  It is a Sunday morning that is incredibly quiet–because there are no cars, no runners or dog walkers.  That makes today the perfect day to light a fire, watch a movie, work in the studio, and bake something that will fill the house with a wonderful smell.  And since I no longer shovel snow (although I used to sort of enjoy it) I get to watch the activity out of my window or standing on the front lawn while the dog frolics in the snow (he LOVES it).

This Japanese Maple is my very favorite tree, right outside my living room window and overlooking the duck pond across the street.

And here it is translated into fabric and thread.

For those of you who were snowed on this week, be inspired.  For those of you who weren’t, be inspired by something else nature has provided–and think about us snowbirds while you walk around in your shorts and sandals!

Building a stash of fabrics for art quilts is entirely different from building a stash for traditional quilts. In an art quilt, your fabric stash becomes your palette and must provide you with all sorts of possibilities, not just colors you like. Unlike traditional quilts, no one fabric pattern is going to take center stage, each fabric used will support the artwork as only one small component. Never was the old expression “buy what the quilt wants, not what you want” more meaningful than it is for art quilt fabrics.

First and foremost you must know yourself and your artistic style. Some art quilters work with representational images and will require a greater range of colors and patterns than an art quilter whose work is abstract. For representational art quilts, you must have at your disposal a variety of fabrics that will work as highlighted areas and shadow areas, making it necessary to collect a wide selection of very light fabrics and dark browns, grays and black, even if those are not your favorite colors. If you like to do nature studies, or landscapes, your stash will require a more browns and greens; if you do faces, skin tones or hair will necessitate more beige into brown fabrics. For art quilters doing abstracts, you can eliminate colors that you feel you might never use–although never is a tough concept.

Understanding your personal artistic voice is the best guide when deciding what to purchase for your stash. In my case, as my art quilts are photo-realistic, I look for fabrics that have an interesting surface “texture” meaning a pattern that gives the illusion of some sort of surface design or has the illusion of movement. My stash is made up of mostly smaller and medium scale tone on tone patterns, as these become the surface interest in my work. Larger scale or multi-colored patterns have a place in my stash, but a small one. I prefer instead to control the placement of each individual color I use.

By storing my fabrics by color, I can instantly see where I may have gaps–and know what colors to focus on when I find myself in a quilt shop. My personal preference is for orange, blue and green; I collect a small amount of purple, pink and yellow (not favorites of mine) because I understand their importance in certain places; and a surprisingly large amount of brown, gray and black. I do not purchase with a particular quilt in mind, preferring to collect general categories–fabrics that may be good for water, for sky, tree trunks, skin tones–or those very exciting fabrics that could work in so many areas that they become my universal donors. I have a personal fondness for fabrics with “writing” on them, purchasing larger cuts of these when I find them.

Abstract artists must understand their own preferences and the direction that their work takes or will take in order to make decisions on stash fabrics. Here, multi-colored patterns or large scale prints may have a more important role in the assortment needed to complete your work. Some artists collect African prints, Asian prints, or other multi-colored, heavily patterned fabrics that instantly set the mood of an art quilt.

The good news for art quilters is that the amount of any fabric you will need is probably smaller than it would be if you were making bed quilts. Most art quilts use large numbers of fabrics, and the more the merrier. My general rule of thumb is to purchase only a quarter yard of a fabric, allowing me to expand my stash with a relatively modest financial investment. I will purchase half a yard if a fabric seems like a universal donor–if I can see it working in a wide range of situations. In rarer cases, I will purchase a yard or more if I think the fabric will make a great background, or for fabrics I know I will need in greater quantity–like those I purchase for sky, water, sand, anything that will require more substantial yardage in an art quilt.

Art quilters also do not limit themselves to cotton. Many art quilts include fabrics with actual texture, not just perceived texture. Art quilters frequently find themselves shopping in the home dec department or the garment fabric department of their fabric stores. I even go to the Salvation Army or other resale stores looking for old clothes that I can cut up. In my house, no garment is thrown away or given away before mom gets first crack at it as a fabric source.

Knowing how much to purchase is also a function of the quilt size with which you are most comfortable. Many artists work quite small, others quite large. If you regularly make art quilts that are five feet square, for example, you will need larger cuts of each available fabric (especially for backgrounds) then an art quilter who works on journal quilts that average only one foot square. Understanding your own art is the best key to knowing what to collect, and how much.

Finally, think about purchasing a bolt of whatever fabric you like to use for your quilt back. Since art quilts hang on the wall, there is little need for a beautiful print that will never be seen– unless, of course, that is part of your individual style. I use off-white kona cotton for the backs of all my art quilts–it gives my work continuity. I purchase a fifteen yard bolt, which lasts a long time. That way, I never need to worry about whether or not I have enough fabric for the backs of my quilts.

My favorite fabrics have a perceived texture and lots of surface interest, while still “reading” as a single color.

On another note from the other day, my studio was getting out of control:

I was finding it hard to focus and concentrate in this mess, so even though I am in the middle of a big project, I decided to take half an hour, pump up my music (flamenco) and clean up.

AAAHH!  So much easier to concentrate, to find what I need and to get things done.  If that old saying is true; “A cluttered desk is the sign of a brilliant mind,” then I am in big trouble!  But look, I can even see the floor again:

Karen was nice enough to leave a comment that she bought my book (thank you) and is on fire.  Please send me pictures.  I love to see what people are doing with the book as their starting point.  You can send them to me at the email address on my website  Leni@leniwiener.com and I will even post them on this blog.

Obviously, the amount of space we have to work in varies, and not everyone is lucky enough to have a dedicated space.  If you do, then you want to set it up so that it works well for you.

I am lucky enough to have such a space, my older son’s former bedroom.  After he finished college, got his first job and an apartment, I waited a few months to make sure it “took” and then decided to claim the space as my own.  He isn’t happy about it, but there was no way I was going to keep this great space dedicated to the memory of his messy youth, so it became my “studio”.

This is the way the room looked the day I decided to take it over.  Sorry, Jared, but it is true.  I am not good enough at photoshop to have created this shot.  Needless to say, I spent a fair amount of time sorting, clearing and cleaning before I could paint and set up.

I have set up the room into four sections:

the sewing table

the cutting table

the pressing table–and primary work table for creating the elements in my art quilts

the design wall.

The sewing table has my sewing machine and all the threads I use.  Next to it you can see a bookcase which contains my art books, quilt books, and small supplies in plastic drawers:

The pillow on the floor by the door is for my little muse, Yendrik.  I keep my chair adjusted to the right height–knees should be at right angles while sitting and elbows should be at right angles to the table top.  A mouse pad is great for keeping the foot pedal from sliding around while I sew.

The cutting table has my large cutting board and all my rulers and rotary cutters.  I will admit that other stuff gets pushed to the sides and this is a periodic clean-up issue.  The picture is farther down, with Yendrik underneath.

The pressing table is next to it and has a pressing surface that I made out of a large piece of plywood covered with three layers of wool blankets (thanks to the US Army and my dad who never thows anything away!) which is all covered with cotton which gets replaced the first month of each year (coming up).  I can pin into this surface, and when I use it to press the wool holds the heat and essentially presses from both sides.

To the side you can see three canvas drawers which contain things like sewing patterns, voile and organza, cut pieces of batting, and some supplies for teaching classes and workshops.  The table also has my iron and my music–only recently I treated myself to an I-pod touch with a docking station that replaced that old boom box on the table.  Heavenly!

The bins underneath the table have since been replaced with a more efficient system of stacking under-bed bins from the container store that are sorted and labeled by color:

Inside, everything is folded so that I can see every single fabric.  Smaller pieces are in plastic bags and tucked into the same color bins.

And finally, the design wall–shown here with a piece in work–the simple construction of which is in my book “Photo-inspired Art Quilts”

A step stool nearby is helpful when working on a large piece, and the rolling “table” next to the design wall holds scissors, my bin of “precious pieces” (fabric pieces too precious to throw out, but very small), pins, glue, etc.  And the bottom shelves contain those UFOs that I will never go back to.  (But, see, not too many.)

When everything has a place to live, and there is enough room for all my supplies, then working is easier and I don’t have to spend time looking for something that “I just know is here somewhere.”

Here is Yendrik under the cutting table.  You can also see that over the table are my inspirations, pinned to foam core.  Originally, the box he is in contained all the voile and organza I sometimes use in my work.  Yendrik, my helper, decided it was a great place to hang out, so his little pillow replaced the fabric and there he sleeps, until mom takes a break.

Think about your workspace, and how you could reorganize it to make it work more efficiently for you.  And give it to yourself as a present for the New Year.

Wow, two comments on a one line post–I am working too hard!!!

One of my students asked me to write a post on artists and procrastination, a problem that plagues all of us at one time or another.  In our “regular lives” procrastination is often present (it certainly is for me), all the unpleasant tasks get pushed aside in deference to the things I would rather do.  Finally, at some point, I have to just suck it up and do it–and it always feels victorious when I can cross those procrastination producing items off my list.

But if you have chosen to create art, and this is something you want to do (because we don’t have to make art) then procrastination means something different.  If making art (or any hobby that you have chosen, for that matter) is something you choose to do, then why would you procrastinate about doing that which you supposedly love to do?  There are two reasons.

Reason number one–you are working on something that isn’t going well. When I am working on a piece and it is progressing along nicely, I can’t wait to get back to the studio to work on it.  I find myself using that as my reason to procrastinate on other things–it is the pleasant thing I want to do.  I am always thinking about it, I may even get up in the middle of the night or early in the morning to get back to it.  This is the draw and the drive to create at its strongest.  But usually when there is something on my design wall or my work table and I am finding other things to do besides working on it, there is a reason–and the reason is that it isn’t working and I haven’t spent the time to figure out why.

This recently completed piece is a perfect example.

I couldn’t wait to get started on this piece when I came home from Hong Kong with the photo.  I began with the depiction of the trees in the background (not the most exciting part) and couldn’t spend enough time on it.  But then, after building the “grandfather” figure I found myself not wanting to go into the studio and work.  I found a million other things I “had” to do which meant I just didn’t have time for it.  I didn’t want to abandon it and start something else (when I do that I NEVER come back to it) but I wasn’t motivated to work on it either.  So finally, after more than a week of not working on anything, I decided to really evaluate why I was avoiding it.  I took a photo of the piece (sorry, didn’t save the photo) and looked at it with a critical eye on the computer.  At that point, the jacket the grandfather was wearing was a lighter blue floral and it blended too much into the pants and even the trees.  He just disappeared.  When really looking for the problem, I established that the jacket was the problem, it needed to be a deeper value.  As soon as I made that change, the whole thing came together and I was on the fast track again–working on it almost around the clock, so excited at how it was developing.

So, if you are working on something and find yourself procrastinating, ask yourself why.  What is it about this piece that isn’t working for me, that is keeping me from being motivated.  Sometimes it is a little fix–one piece of fabric that isn’t working can throw the whole thing off; sometimes it means biting the bullet and reworking an entire section that just isn’t right.  But in the long run, you have to change what is wrong so that you can move forward.  Maybe the problem is that you have taken on a project that you feel overwhelmed by or that feels too difficult to accomplish.  These road blocks need to be broken down into little bites, just a small section of that seemingly overwhelming or difficult task.  Remember that we grow as artists when we challenge ourselves rather than always sticking to what is comfortable.

Reason number two–you need to start something new and don’t know what to do. This is less often my problem, as I always have one piece in work, three in my head, and dozens on the computer.  But for many artists, getting started is the hardest part.  As I have told you before in this blog, I keep files–lots of files–on the computer.  I organize all the photos I have taken (or collected as inspiration from other sources) in separate files by type–among them–landscapes, seascapes, animals (sub-categorized by animal), still life studies, architecture, and (of course) my people files.  Then I keep two other files “next up” and “pending”.  Next up are photos that have already been manipulated or combined and often ready to print as my working pattern.  These I work on on the days that I feel like sitting at the computer, which gives me something more valuable to do than playing sodoko or tetris (yes, both obsessions of mine–and when I find myself playing either one I know I am procrastinating for some reason).  Pending are the photos that I am particularly interested in working on, but have not manipulated or really thought about yet.  These are pictures that are intriguing and I am anxious to work on but haven’t really focused on.  Usually, when I finish a piece I am hot to start the next one “on my list”, but sometimes I go to these two files and look for something that strikes a chord and inspires me to get started.   Frankly, more often than not, a new photo jumps to the front of the line, and some of the images in both these files have been waiting for several years–and some may never be made.  My mood also effects what I want to work on, certain colors, pieces that may be more contemplative, or more exuberant (who am I kidding, none of my work is exuberant) can come to the front of the line if they complement the way I am feeling at the time.

Also consider–your work environment. If you are lucky enough to have a dedicated work space it has to be a pleasant surrounding to be in.  I have a great studio space–great in the sense that it has enough room to house everything I need in a way that makes it easy to find, and provides enough work surfaces for pressing, sewing, cutting and a design wall–it isn’t anything gorgeous.  Anyone who knows me, or certainly anyone who has been to my house knows I am NOT a neat freak.  But when the studio space is messy it makes it hard for me to go in there and work.  This seems to be a more recent phenomenon, as I get older I need a more organized space in which to work.  Let’s face it, if you are going to sit in a room for several hours being “creative” then you don’t want that room to be a distraction.  When my first reaction on entering the room is “UGH” then I know it is time to straighten up.  Straightening up for me mostly means that I have pulled out too many fabrics to consider and they are all over the work table.  And those little pieces of freezer paper I use to cut my pieces are all over the floor.  When I start to refold and reorganize those fabrics into their proper bins, I not only can see again what I have, but I find the stuff that had gone missing–the seam ripper, my little scissors, the dog.  Cleaning up always precedes a new project, but in the case of the one I am working on now–a very large project with many components–I need to periodically straighten up so that I can find what I want and so that I can enjoy being there.

If you don’t have a dedicated space, then the setting up and getting organized can be your block.  I remember what it was like to drag everything out, set it up on the kitchen table and then have to break it down again.  I felt like all my energy was spent getting organized.  So if that is your source of procrastination, I have two suggestions for you.

First, see if there is someplace in your house or apartment that you can set up your work and leave it.  I remember years ago when I was doing sculpture and I complained to a fellow sculptor about setting up and taking down and he said to me, “oh, come on, you mean to tell me there isn’t enough space in your whole house to set up one table that you can put your work on?”  He was right, there was.  Knowing that it was there and I could go and work on it when I could grab a few minutes made a huge difference.  Even now, I can go into the studio and work for a bit while waiting for the rice to boil, or other stolen moments.

Haven’t got even a little space?  At least organize your project so that it is easy to set up and take down.  Buy a piece of foam core (available in art supply stores and even at staples–it is styrofoam with poster board on either side).  You can use this as your “portable design wall” and keep the project you are working on pinned to it.  Get a small plastic bin and use that just for the supplies you are using for your ongoing project–scissors, pins, freezer paper, pencils, the fabrics you are using–that way when you do get going, all you need is your bin and your design wall.  When you need to “clean up” it all goes back in the bin and the foam core goes with it ready to spring to action for the next time you can work on it.

For artists, procrastination is avoidance.  If you find yourself procrastinating, you need to ask yourself “what am I avoiding?”  Is it that the project you are working on needs to be re-evaluated?  Is it that you are not motivated to start something new?  Or is your work situation too messy or cumbersome?  If you love making art, and you aren’t loving it at the moment, you need to figure out why.

I really want to do a post on artists and procrastination, but I think I will wait until tomorrow.

I am so please so see that my ramblings started a dialogue with readers of this post.  I appreciate all the comments, and wanted to address some of them.

To begin with, my apologies to Jackson Pollock.  It was pointed out to me that his work is not so easily duplicated and that he did have a vision (and was probably not just scamming the art world).  I am sure he is resting easier now knowing that I don’t think the worst of him!

Sandra Wyman commented that she believes technique can also define craft, but (and of course this is all just our personal opinions) I think that is where the problems start.  If sewing is craft, then all art quilts are craft, but in fact many of them are art in every sense of the word.  If painting is art, then what about those hand painted bunnies and santas?  And what of clay?  Is it all craft–is it craft if it is formed on a wheel but art if formed by hand?  And would that also mean that “art” mass produced in a certain technique could still be considered art?

Sarah Ann Smith had a long comment about yesterday’s post on what makes art good, and brought up some interesting points.  She says there was an effort to evoke emotion in the years of developing art–particularly in biblical art.  This is a gray area, as I think the real goal here, as she said, was teaching, and pathos, which is not the same as engendering an emotional response in the viewer as an artistic goal.  But I admit, that although emotion may not have been the primary goal in western art, it may have been a side benefit.  I was thinking of more contemporary art created to induce a reaction–political art, anti-war art–as it’s primary intention.

I don’t agree, however about classical art.  Yes, the idealized figure in the Greek tradition lead to individualism in the Romans which included portraits of particular people, but these portraits were blank of emotion, either expressed in the sitter, or expected in the viewer.  Art in both Greek and Roman times was a skilled craft like any other, those who did it well were sought after, those who did not got jobs that required they ask “do you want olives with that?”.  There is a reason that we cannot name off the tip of our tongues the artists in those two cultures whose work had the most impact, as we can in later epochs.  The artwork was valued but no more than any other skilled product of human industry.

I had not heard the Hockney quote about photography and the freedom from hyper realism leading to the impressionist expression, but it is an interesting one.  That is why it is often so important to look at changes in artistic expression in their historical context.  Another example is in the vividly patterned backgrounds in some of Van Gogh’s portraits.  Wallpaper was new and all the rage in Europe, and painting a pattern behind his sitter gave the illusion that these sitters could afford wallpaper in their homes.

I limited my definition to what is good abstract art not because I work in abstract art (my work is highly representational and photo-realistic) but only because I think it is easier to define good representational art.  Are shadows and light depicted accurately?  Is proportion and perspective correct?  Does the artwork resemble that which it is meant to resemble?  It is only when we begin to abstract our view and move away from photo-realism that the waters get murky.

Edward Hopper’s Chop Suey 1929 is photo-realistic, but so much more than a photo.  The shadows, the light, the tilt of the head, this is art that can be evaluated by its correctness in the natural world.

I love this self portrait of Picasso as a young man.  Clearly we are still looking at representational art, but the rules have changed–the angular outlines, the obviously skewed proportions.  We can begin to evaluate this kind of art in terms of line and geometry, but it still can be seen through the viewpoint of other representational art as well.

But when we abandon any relationship to the natural world, we need a new set of criteria for analysis–perspective and light are no longer relevant.  Art must be evaluated in terms of pure design–which raises the stakes, rather than lowering the bar.  Because abstract art cannot be redeemed by its depiction of something recognizable, it must stand on its own in terms of composition and color, like the piece below by Morris Lewis.

As far as dirivitive art is concerned, of course, when young artists worked in the studio of the master and copied his work the results were dirivitive–which was the goal.  It was by immitating that they learned not only the rules of art, but the technique as well.  There is nothing wrong with learning technique from another artist, but it must be a stepping stone to art that is unique and not a copy of the instructor.  Dirivitive art is not only not art, it is plagerism.

Finally, I think several people misunderstood my word–intention.  Believe me, I harbor no illusions in my own work about it being a profound expression of my inner self, NONE of my work is what I would call profound.  In fact, ask me on a bad day and I will tell you it is pointless.  What I meant by intention was really personal style and voice.  Art does not need to be profound or pretentious, in fact, that kind of art is usually stupid and self righteous.  Intention to me means that it represents a vision, a style, and fits into a body of work that clearly comes from the same hand.  Intention means that the artist set out to create an artwork (maybe it turns out well, maybe it does not), and that the work was not just an accident of paint spilling on the floor.

Which brings me back to those chimp paintings.  Here is one by a chimp named Congo who was described on the British website selling his work as the Cezanne of the simian world ( the Cezanne of the simian world–please, at least pick the name of an artist who does abstract paintings–GEEZ).  This piece sold for $25,000–a sad moment for real artists everywhere:

Here is an example by an artist whose work I love, Eva Carter.

PLEASE do not think that I am in any way comparing the work of a talented artist to the well edited output of a chimp–my point is that regardless of artistic training and technique, the difference between chimp art and real art is intention–I am sure the chimp did not wake up one day and say to himself, “I need to get into the studio and work on a new piece”.  He was not motivated by a desire or need to create.  He was not thinking about expressing his feelings and emotions, or about presenting a consistent voice in his body of work.  I sincerely doubt he has any formal training in art, either attendance in art school or from the experience of working at his art and improving his technique, or pushing his boundaries.  Most likely he got a banana for his efforts.

Yesterday’s post about art vs craft prompted the question “what makes art good?”  So all that art history education my parents paid for will not go to waste, I will jump in with my thoughts on that subject.

There is a joke that art is like pornography, I can’t define it, but I know it when I see it.  This is not entirely silly, as one trains their eye to recognize good art, they will be able to do so before they feel they can articulate what is good about it.

Terry Grant posted a comment that someone told her there is no “bad art.”  If this is true, then maybe there are only bad artists.  I certainly think there is a lot of bad art in the world.

First an art historical preface.  Art is as old as man.  The magnificent cave paintings found at various sites around Europe attest to the fact that man was creating art–and good art–much farther back than we could imagine.

This example is from the caves near Lascaux, France.  In my mind this holds up as good art even today.  I can feel the movement of these animals, their weight in space, the contrasting use of color.  This has all the components I discussed yesterday about what is art–originality (who was this artist going to copy anyway?!), intention, color, composition, technique.

The height of classical Greek art was driven by “canons,” strict rules that determined proportion and balance, and all artists adhered to them.  There was no particular aesthetic criteria for art in ancient times, it was simply a representation of the natural world and a successful work of art possessed a correctness of that representation which was a result of the skill of the artist (who was considered a craftsman just like builders and wine-makers).

Throughout the history of Western Art,  canons in the figurative (representational) depiction of the natural world were what defined art.  Styles came and went, were prevalent in different regions, but the goal was the depiction of BEAUTY in the natural world.  Deviation from the rules was enough to keep a work from attaining the level of art, and emotion only entered the picture in the depiction of emotion–that is to say, whether the person in the painting looks sad, or happy or confused.  There was no attempt, or even desire to elicit emotion in the viewer.  Throughout the centuries, art was a product of human industry, its success measured in terms of how effective it was in promoting the objective for which it was made.

Things did not change radically until the impressionists decided to shake things up a bit.  Although they still depicted naturalistic subjects in a fairly representational manner, they changed the technique by which they accomplished this task, breaking the rules that governed art for so long.  Although theirs was not the change that rocked the art world, it provided the portal through which the cubists entered and changed the way we defined art.

Many of the cubists were impressionists and they began first to depict the natural world in hard geometry, their vision eventually yielding to the expression of the relationship between line and color which did not ultimately need to result in the creation of any particular recognizable form.

So back to the question, what makes art good?  For the centuries leading up to the 20th century, what made art good was an easy question to answer.  But in the words of Piet Mondrian, “the culture of a particular form ends and the culture of determined relationships begins” meaning art does not have to be figurative–or represent something recognizable from the natural world, it is simply now about the relationships between the constructive elements that we, as artists, create for ourselves.  So the real issue is what makes abstract art good?  I think this is the real puzzle that most people are trying to piece together.

What makes abstract art good?  Don’t confuse what you like with what is good.  Ben and Jerry make good ice cream, but we all like and dislike some of the many different flavors they offer.  In order to understand and determine what makes art good, we have to go back again to the definition of what art is in the first place, and then examine the success of particular pieces in that framework.  In a way, we still have not moved away from the rules and canons that have identified art all these years–we have only broadened our criteria.

Many people think that good art must elicit emotion in the viewer, and although this is often the goal of the artist, or the result, this is not required of art.

“Trafalgar Square” by Piet Mondrian (like all his work) does not seek an emotional response from the viewer, by his own admission, the artist calls his work NEUTRAL art, which looks only for the construction relationships of composition and color placement to create a dynamic rhythm of geometric shapes.

When I was in college studying art history, I went into a gallery selling work by Jim Dine.  I distinctly remember engaging in a conversation with the woman in the gallery over a piece that looked like this one (or may have been this one from 1970).

Coming from my (at that point) traditional art historical exposure, I asked her what made this art.  Her reply was about as stupid an answer as I could have gotten.  “It is expensive.”  I said there had to be a criteria greater than price to establish what is art and what is not, and she told me that I clearly couldn’t appreciate what I couldn’t afford.  Oi.

Too many artists today think this is true, that anything goes and that there are no rules for art.  That is not true.  One must understand color, value, line, and composition well enough that it becomes intuitive (and does not look forced); one must possess technique that can represents their vision and intention in a manner that supports, not deters.

There must be movement over the surface of the work:

Like Ellsworth Kelly’s 1951 piece “brushstrokes cut into 49 squares and arranged randomly”.  Here line and composition draw the eye around the work, creating visual interest and excitement.  No need to use color or value, simplicity reigns, but there is a lively vitality to this piece that I love (one of the things I like so much about his work is the relationship it has to our own quilting traditions).

Repetition of pattern or shape is another element that determines good composition, but the rythm of the piece flows from changes in the sizes of that shape, and their inter-relationships with each other.  This piece by Louise Nevelson makes use of repeating circle motifs, but changes their size, moves them around the surface, and breaks the composition into thirds resulting in a successful artwork even without the addition of color.  Negative space is an important element in the composition.

“The Golden Wall” by Hans Hoffman (which hung in my bedroom throughout my childhood–a poster, not the original) takes this theory of repeating shapes and their inter-relationship to the next level with the addition of color.  Orange and yellow are analogous colors, which blend well together, and blue is the opposite or compliment of orange, creating visual excitement and a dynamic composition.

Obviously, I am not going to show you bad art and discuss it, as I would not want to embarrass any artist that way.  Suffice it to say that I see lots of art these days (art quilts in particular) that lack the basic components of what makes good art.  Many of these in my head right now, make use of swirling patterns with no particular attention to color or the placement and relationship of the components.  With no compositional directive to look around the surface of the work, no interesting constructive elements, positioning or varied dimension of components, the surface of the work is flat and uninteresting.

I will interject here my personal pet peeve in the history of art–Jackson Pollock.  He is an artist who represents two other things to think about–that art must sometimes be evaluated in its historical context, and that not all art that is deemed good art will meet your own criteria.

We all know his work when we see it.  Yes, there is intention and a consistent body of work.  Yes, his work is original–or at least it was in its historical context.  No one else was doing what he did, his work was unlike anything else on the art scene at the time.  Yes, there is an understanding of color and the balance of that color, and the relationships between colors.  Yes, the eye of the viewer is drawn around the work and there is a lively vitality and visual interest.  Yes, there is a repetition of patterns, so to speak, in the swirls and blobs.  But I hate it.  I think it needs a visual resting place, like some negative space somewhere or a shape or color that serves as a focal point.  Yes, he is a famous artist and many of you will not agree with my opinion of his work (we probably don’t like the same flavors of Ben and Jerry, either).  But I can’t get over feeling that he was scamming the art world by producing what he knew was crap marketed to people who didn’t want to admit they didn’t get it.  Ok, so ends my Jackson Pollock rant.

An art education is not necessary for an understanding and appreciation of what is good and what falls short.  Studying old masters was always the way artists were trained, if you work in abstractionism then your masters don’t go back farther than the last 100 years.  Study them and ask yourself, why is this good, what works, how can I achieve what this artist has achieved?  Look at the balance of color, shape and the relationships of each of these elements.  Look at the composition–is it centered, or is it asymmetrical?  Look at enough art that you begin to internalize the characteristics of good art, and they will make their way to the surface in your own work.

So, what makes abstract art good?

1.  originality: does the artist employ techniques or an artistic vision that is unique and unlike work of others?  Does the artwork offer a fresh interpretation?  Is it immediately identifiable or is it derivative of other work?

2. intention: have you seen other work of this artist, and is the work consistent and represent a solid voice?

3.  color: does the artwork make use of color theory, are color compliments or analogous colors used to set a mood, or to convey an emotion?  Does the color used support the overall look and feel of the work?

4. composition: is the overall composition pleasing or boring; is your eye drawn around the surface of the work or into the focal point?  Is there a motif–a shape or a color or other design element that repeats in a way that makes the artwork seem fluid and provides movement and visual excitement?

5. technique: does the artist possess the skill required to make his vision (intention) a reality?  Does the technique bring anything new to the table on its own?  Is the presentation of the final piece professional and finished?

(OK, in answering all those questions, Pollock does meet the criteria.  I just don’t like his work!)

Phew, how’s that?